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Monday, April 27, 2015

W is for Wanderer

Here we are! It's the last week of the A to Z Challenge! If you're struggling to keep going, you can take comfort, because you're almost there.

I have some flash fiction for you.

Today's word: WANDERER

Enjoy!

Wanderer

The wanderer came into our tiny town the
same way he did once every couple of months.
He wore modest, non-remarkable clothes, but he was tall. His presence was notable.

Mr. Miller, the town barber, started
keeping a record of when he came and how long he stayed, which was never more
than a couple of days. I never knew why
some people in town eyed the wanderer with such suspicion. He never hurt anyone that I was aware of, and
though he never went out of his way to talk to anyone, he was polite
enough. When I was twelve, the wanderer
and I accidentally bumped into one another on the corner of Main Street and
Welsh Avenue, and he said “Excuse me, young lady” and went on his way.

The wanderer stopped in to the bank to do
business, but Mrs. Carlisle was the only one who’d ever served him, and she
took the confidentiality rules very seriously.
Even Mr. Carlisle knew nothing about the wanderer’s identity.

When I was twenty-one and home from college
for the summer, the wanderer came again.
I learned about it through hearing the whispers at the local café. People were speculating, and those
speculations became more fantastical as time went on. The prevailing opinion was that he was a con
man who kept on the move so no one could catch him at his game. Some thought he was a murderer that kept the
money he stole from his victims at our bank.
Others guessed involvement in organized crime, or that he worked for the
government.

It fascinated me that such a mythos could develop
around a single person, and I wondered why people just called him by the moniker
“the wanderer” when there were countless other names they could have chosen.

The mystery was shattered the next day when
the wanderer was found dead in an alley.
It soon came to light that a group of people in their late teens and early
twenties had confronted him. They
demanded to know who he was and what he wanted.
They threatened him with knives and baseball bats, though they never got
to use them. The wanderer dropped dead
of a heart attack first.

The family came that afternoon. The wanderer had a family: a wife and two
teenage kids.

He also had a name. Ronald Alfred Winston.

Mrs. Carlisle was questioned, and it came
out that she knew Ronald from childhood.
They’d dated during high school.
They were having an affair.

Scandalous on its own, perhaps, but only in
the most ordinary way. People talked for
a short time afterwards, but it died down relatively quickly. The mystery was more engaging than the
reality.

Isn't that the way it always is though? The mystery is much more interesting than what the reality is. But so much pathos caused by not knowing is the dangerous part. What business was it of those young people who might have caused his heart attack, what he was doing? And, to me this points out just how important, no, imperative, good communication is. Great story! Is it real? Lisa, co-host AtoZ 2015, @ http://www.lisabuiecollard.com

This left me feeling rather sad. A credible and thought-provoking tale. you make flash fiction seem so easy when we all know it's not :-)@AnneKnol1 fromNew Author Support - Tips on Writing and Promotion from A to Z